Legacy
by J.A. Carlton
Summary: When another innocent loses their life to save Dean, he and Sam begin a journey that will lead them down a path not even Sam could have forseen. possible season 2 spoilers
1. Chapter 1

Legacy – Chpt 1 – s.n. ficlet

by: sifi

All Disclaimers apply… I don't own Supernatural.

It owns me, but it keeps me on a really long leash.

Love?: Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?

--

Air found itself forced out of his lungs as his body started to fall backwards. His arms closed around the solid object that had careened into him and he heard Sam's voice call out, "Dean!" Then he hit the ground and felt liquid hot spread over him through his shirt as he looked down at the top of the sand colored head that was laying on his chest. He looked up, his eyes moving quickly between his little brother who was charging toward him from across the street, and the late model Monte Carlo that was laying down twin trails of rubber on the street.

"Sam!..." he called back and rolled onto his side, carefully cradling the owner of the head he was looking at, _I got a baaaad feeling about this…_ "Call an ambulance!"

Sam skidded to his side drawing his cell from his pocket and dialing 911 breathlessly. He watched his big brother gently lay the body that saved his life onto the ground.

Dean shook his head meeting the pale blue eyes within that elfin face and scanning her body, trying hard not to look as desperate as he felt.

_She took the bullet in the back… oh God what do I do? She's gonna bleed out… damn! that's a big freakin' hole! In like a sports car out like a semi… damn… why? Who is she? Why would anyone do that? She saw it coming… I know she did…_

"This is gonna hurt a bit…" he warned pressing his hand down on the gaping tear near the center of her upper abdomen, _With the way the blood's pouring out… that had to have hit her aorta…thanks dad for the basic anatomy…_ and for the first time in a long time he wasn't quite feeling those gnashing jaws of loss tearing into his soul, at least not because of John's death, and the reason for it. _No, this time it's going to be because of some innocent…not again, I can't live with that again…_

The slender hand that wrapped around his wrist still had a surprising amount of strength in it and the eyes shed reflexive tears as Dean brought his jade greens up to hers and locked onto them. Her breathing was shallow and sporadic, all three of them knew there was no way she would survive. Her rosebud mouth worked to make sounds, she had something to communicate and as much as Dean wanted to rewind time and stop her from taking the stray bullet that would've hit him, he had no choice but to listen. His pain written clearly on his face he leaned forward to bear witness to her last words.

"…wo…th… it," she mouthed and took a shuddering breath through the blood that was pooling in her mouth, "…gifv oou, … s'left…ooo… afv…de…zt…ny,…" her eyes seemed to focus for a brief moment on his and something crossed her features, something Dean wasn't quite sure he understood, a kind of satisfaction maybe as she sighed distinctly, "...heeh… you're gold…" she smiled and her hand released his wrist so her fingers could touch his cheek before falling back to the ground, the lighthouse keeper was gone.

"Wha?...Nuh…" Dean breathed and turned his head to confirm what he knew. She was dead, this young innocent woman, barely out of her teens was dead for him. _Why? What was she saying?How? Why would she…? give me? Give me what? did she say destiny? I don't understand…Gold? Gold or Cold? _ he thought numbly as he felt Sam's hand on his shoulder and heard the sound of sirens still a few blocks away. He felt his muscles creek as he turned his head and met Sam's sympathetic eyes before turning back to the face that would haunt him. A glint of red covered gold caught his eye and he focused, _Alexandra. Nice name…who was she? I need to know…_ he thought as Sam broke through his musings.

"Dean you gotta get out of here… you're in the _Federal_ Database…" he warned as Dean rose to his feet and grimacing, zipped his jacket up over his blood soaked t-shirt.

They exchanged a knowing look as Dean disappeared, fading into the shadows cast by the trees that lined the street. He watched from the basement stairwell of a nearby apartment building as the ambulance pulled to a stop at the curb and the deafening siren was finally silenced, traded for a different cacophony.

--

"So apparently Miss Bentley's more ghost than Constance Welch…" Sam looked up from the computer as Dean entered the motel room, "What'd you get?"

"Pastrami on rye for me… corned beef on an onion bagel for you…"

"Bah dum bum,"

"Bah dum bum," they said together as Dean tossed the deli bag to him and pulled up a chair.

"Actually, she worked in the purchasing department of Ferrow's Mechanical, been there four years, started the day after college graduation, never missed a day and was pretty well liked by her co-workers, no beefs with or against anyone…" Dean paused to take a bite of his sandwich.

"Sounds like a perfect employee…" Sam surmised, "…what's the catch?"

Dean smirked, "Mmm man there's nothing like a genuine deli pastrami sandwich…" then took a swig of his soda before continuing, "…No friends, no real friends anyway… minor socializing with the co-workers was pretty much the extent of her…people time… no family, father died when she was thirteen, mother died a year later, no siblings, no boyfriend, girlfriend or other…spent some time in state custody until she hit eighteen. She scored heavy scholarships for college…"

"No connection to anyone?" Sam asked.

"Nope… not a single verifiable social human interaction… and check this out…" he pulled a set of papers from his jacket pocket and handed one of them to his little brother.

"Hmm, now that's kinda creepy…"

"Yeah… four years worth of phone calls on two sheets of paper… are you sure about this Dean? Nobody can live like this…"

"Most of those numbers are either the cable company or local restaurants… the few that are highlighted are her job or co-workers cell phone… three calls Sam… three in four years…" Dean shook his head and looked hard at his little brother, the thought of being that isolated, that completely alone in the world making his guts crawl.

"We gotta get into her apartment."

"We need to see her apartment," they said together.

"Dude would you stop that! It's getting weird!" Dean teased remembering the first time he'd noticed them actively on the same wavelength. It was during the Turnbull case right before that ancient deity almost fried him in his own skin. _It was just a few days after that… four days after that case that Bobby called…four days later and dad was gone… God I can't think about it right now… please no more for now…It's always gonna hurt dad, I'm always gonna miss you… and I'm always gonna love you… and eventually I'll forgive you… maybe when it hurts less…_he coaxed the thoughts to a recess in the back of his mind. He'd learned within the first couple months that shoving them away only made them plant roots until they strangled him. He knew he was going to eventually deal with all of it, not just John's murder, cause they all knew _what_ he'd lost his life to, but why he'd done it, why he'd wasted his opportunity to waste that yellow eyed son of a bitch and wound up… _Not now…I can't…_. Then of course there was Sammy. _Oh man I soo can't think about that right now…_

"So we go check out her place in the morning?" Sam asked.

Dean smiled and held up his pick set, "You up for a little after dinner larceny?"

--

He closed the door and turned quickly, colliding with Sam's back.

"What…?" he started to ask then got a look into the apartment and felt his mental jaw drop. The front door opened into what was supposed to be a 'dining room', and indeed there was a dining table in the room itself though for the rows of books standing on its surface one might not know it was there. From the door to the couch was a three foot wide path of clear hardwood. This path forked to the right about twelve feet in, and led to three different places, the one on the most extreme right led to the kitchen, the center to the bathroom and the left to the bedroom and living room. The living room consisted of a couch, coffee table, and old fashioned cabinet television with all the modern conveniences situated neatly atop.

It appeared that every other square inch was occupied with teetering overstuffed shelves, some propped by secondary book cases, and a breakfront that was likewise jam packed.

"Holy crap…"

"When did we get to Bobby's?" Dean asked moving around his little brother to follow the path into the living room.

Sam on the other hand bent at the table and began to read the spines of the books that stood upright, obviously very well cared for. These were older tomes, some of quality and age he could only begin to try and fathom, but the titles, so far as he could see had one thing in common. They all dealt with some aspect of the supernatural world. "Wow… Dean…"

"Yeah… Ghosts, hauntings, possessions… what have you got?"

"Demonology, Spiritus De La Muerte, The Walk of the Wiccan, Charms, Wards, Guardians of the Realms…" he read and shook his head.

"Yeah… you notice anything else?" Dean asked standing in the center of the barely separated room and turning in circles, looking at the walls and ceilings which bore nothing more than a thumb tack or two.

"What?"

"All these books…"

"Any tools yet?" Sam asked.

"Not a one… yet," Dean smiled, almost the kind of smile Sam remembered.

"Yet," he smiled back wondering how this was going to affect his brother in the long run. It seemed as if he was just starting to make some headway back into the land of the living. It seemed like he was maybe getting close to remembering all the good he could do without necessarily putting himself in jeopardy, or falling head first down that dark dank rabbit hole that just seemed to want to clutch him to its own fetid breast. There had been far too many close calls lately and his part in the guilt Dean was burdening himself with weighed heavily on Sam. The demon at the crossroad might've been lying, they both knew it, but they both knew she hadn't been. Neither of them knew exactly _why_ John had made any kind of a deal with the yellow eyed son of a bitch, but Sam knew it had something to do with him and the demon's plans for himself and other kids like him. He also thought about one of the last voice mail messages he'd gotten from John and the questions he'd asked. So while the crossroad demon malevolently stirred Dean's emotional pot, taunting him with its most effective weapon, Dean's love for their father, Sam was left wondering if there was any way he could've known what was going to happen. And perhaps what troubled him the most was the question of why, since it pertained to the demon not to mention their dad, why hadn't he had a vision?

Another thing that had him unnerved was the fact that three weeks after Bobby had allowed them to use his place to give John his pyre, they'd discovered that Laura had gone missing. The scary part was that not one of them knew how long she'd really been gone. Her car had been found abandoned on the side of the road, the driver door open, keys in the ignition and all of her belongings inside. Their searches and inquiries had turned up nothing. It was as if she disappeared from the face of the Earth and over the last eight weeks, Sam didn't mind admitting there were moments when he'd been more than just a little scared, both For and Of Dean. Still, he was willing to breathe when the opportunity presented itself, and nothing could drag him away from his brothers' side, short of death that is.

--

tbc? Slow beginning I'm sorry…

Normally I don't comment more than asking for opinions – there are always exceptions to the rule. This is one of those moments…

If you have any interest in the back-story… the prequel if you will I will dare to suggest a quick journey to a little four chapter fic called "Hollow" also written by j.a. carlton.

Hollow has been listed as a book crossover under the genre of supernatural. The fact is, the story does not technically involve Kripke's world at all. Though in the end there may be a vague resemblance to one of his characters… somewhere…

Course if you're not interested in the back story… that's cool too… I just hope you enjoy this one.

Please R&R… it feeds the need.

thanks

sifi


	2. Chapter 2

Legacy – chpt 2.  
by: sifi 

--

"Wow!" Dean breathed from across the front room where the drawers and cabinets of the breakfront were open.

"What?" Sam asked moving to his side and taking in the sight of several hundred DVD's and Video tapes. "Wow… agorophobic y'think?"

"Is that the people or big spaces?" Dean asked.

Sam started to answer but closed his mouth quickly and frowned, "Y'know I'm not sure… I think it's the not leaving the house one…"

"So you think she was a hermit?"

"Either that or…" he shook his head scowling.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I don't get it… she works a normal job…"

"Worked…"

"Yeah… sorry… worked a normal job, great student, yadda yadda yadda… I'm not thinking she was scared… I mean with all the books you'd think if she was afraid of something, or paranoid there'd be salt circles, sigils, pentagrams everywhere… I'm sure there's a Seal of Solomon in at least one of these books…"

"Obsessed?" Dean suggested.

"Let's finish checking the place out before we decide anything… I'm just saying… this is weird…"

"I'm not disagreeing…" Dean shrugged, "Kitchen or bedroom?"

"Kitchen…" Sam nodded as they closed the cabinets to the breakfront and moved deeper into the apartment.

--

"Anything in here?" Sam asked opening the bedroom door all the way and knocking his brother deep into the closet.

"Hey! Careful Francis… that's valuable property…" Dean called grinning as he backed out of the closet with a two foot by two foot fireproof lock box in his hands.

"Your best asset huh?" Sam teased.

"Damned straight… any eye of newt in the pantry?" he asked carrying the box out into the living room and setting it on the coffee table.

Sam shook his head, "…though she does have three different kinds of salt… Kosher, Sea Salt and regular Iodized… all in regular sized containers…"

"That's it?" Dean asked, his brow furrowing and his scowl deepening in a way that told Sam he was still working for that meaty marrow center of this particular bone.

"Well okay, there's a pretty well stocked spice rack too… but … dude, not a hint of any active workings in the occult…" Sam shook his head and sat next to Dean who'd pulled out his picks and was working the lock on the box.

"Which brings us back to the land of the obsessed…" he nodded smiling satisfied as the latch popped and the door jumped a fraction of an inch, "What the hell?" he groaned throwing the lid open so Sam could see what he did. Four cubic feet of fire resistant lock box almost completely filled with spiral notebooks and one envelope taped to the inside of the lid with the word "Will" written on it.

The boys looked at each other and shrugged awkwardly as Dean slit the envelope open and unfolded the simple piece of paper that read:

"I Alexandra Bentley, being of sound mind and body hereby request to anyone that finds this Last Will and Testament, that my belongings be dispersed in the following manner since I have no family or relatives upon whom to lay this onerous task.

My books, many of which are rare and valuable despite being copies in almost every case, and I know there are many of them, but please see to it that they are donated to the most reputable center for paranormal studies that can be found at the time of my death. I also ask that the notebooks also contained within this box be donated to the same center, as well as my laptop.

My CD's, DVD's and videos and any other entertainment systems and equipment should be bequeathed as a fee for providing the previous service.

Anything else… it doesn't matter… I won't need it where I'm going.

This is my last will and testament signed this 2nd day of May of the year 2005."

Then it held her signature and the stamp of a Currency Exchange Notary Public.

"Did you see a laptop?" Dean asked Sam who shook his head and looked around.

"Ah…" he rose smiling, his eye catching the blinking blue light against the curtain behind one of the rows of books on the dining table.

While Dean pulled out the first spiral notebook in the box Sam sat at the table, opened the laptop and began trying passwords.

Well, the best place to start is at the beginning…Dean thought reading the carefully written 1989 on the cover then turning it over to the first page. On the inside cover were the words written with equal care, as if the author was still working from the lettering systems tacked to the walls of most grammar school classrooms, "Property of Alexandra Bentley." He turned his attention to the first entry and read the words written by a six year old girl who should've been writing about anything other than what he was reading.

"Oh hell…" Dean groaned a moment later and ran his hand down his face. He closed and tossed the book onto the coffee table where it slid across and shot onto the floor, "Son of a BITCH! Why do people do that? Huh?... What the hell is wrong with people?" he barked cutting the corner too close and cracking his shin on it as he bent to retrieve the notebook.

"What Dean?" Sam asked wondering if his reprieve was over so soon.

His big brother shook his head but re-opened what was essentially a journal and read the first paragraph aloud:

"May 26th, 1989 I saw a thing again today, well I see them every day. It was at the Memorial Day parade… really I saw lots of them, they were all over everyone… but nobody could see them… I asked daddy and he just looked at me funny… and I didn't want to ask mommy cause then she might just drink more and call me…that word again…they were happy and mean looking… for what I could see of them… they don't let me see them really… but just enough that when they're happy it makes me scared…I don't like them but nobody else sees them… maybe I really am a… a… freak… like mommy says…"

Sam, met his brothers' eyes and shook his head, he knew how anything having to do with kids got to Dean, _Great another pothole in the road of our lives_… "Skip ahead… see if you can find out if she describes 'em…"

Dean spocked an eyebrow at his little brother who typed reflexively then sat bolt upright with an impressed look turning his mouth down. "What?" he asked.

"The password… 'demons'…" Sam shrugged.

"Dude you automatic typing now too?" Dean asked coming to stand over Sam's shoulder to look at the desktop.

The desktop was one of those that came standard with the programming, a lovely little beach scene with a palm tree against a blue sky and nearly white sand. "Nice…" Dean smiled as Sam opened the 'my documents' file and found himself confronted with several pages of folders labeled by category.

"Angels, Demons, Ghosts, Thoughtforms, Wraiths, Sidhe..." he read and flashed a glance at his big brother's face. Yep… there it is… he hasn't forgotten… "Dean… this is gonna take a while to go through I think…"

"What do you want to do? Take it with? We can't leave these books behind Sam…"

"Actually I think we should hunker down for the night… see what we can come up with… do you think Bobby would want these?"

"Dude she asked that they be donated to a reputable paranormal research center… which is a full on oxymoron in my book but…" Dean reminded him and shrugged.

Sam cocked his head to the side looking at him questioningly.

"Yeah… I know," Dean nodded, "They'll probably be more valuable to hunters then in some damned research center…"

Sam nodded.

"We could bring 'em to the roadhouse…" Dean shrugged with his mouth.

Sam nodded, "I'll call Ellen in the morning, see if she'll mind…"

Dean nodded, "Alright Professor… hunker down… see what you can find out… I'll go invade the woman's privacy…"

"Dean…" Sam said softly but with a hint of urgency in his tone that made his big brother turn and look at him.

"Yeah?"

"… you and diaries… what's up with that?" Sam asked.

Dean chuffed, "Beats what's on TV these days… besides, I don't think she has the Latin Spice Channel…"

"Bitch…" Sam sneered teasingly.

"That's my line…"

--

"Man… I don't get people…" Dean said a few hours later and caught Sam's eyes on the other end of the couch, "The things they put this kid through… and she just… took it…"

"Well what was she supposed to do? She was a kid…"

Dean shook his head, "Well she did the only thing she could do… she stopped talking about it…but dude… Spinal taps, counseling… at one point they had her going for shock therapy sessions… drug therapy… yeah that's therapy… all to find out there was nothing wrong with her after all… and they couldn't figure out why she was having these 'hallucinations'? After all that it's a miracle she didn't wind up crazy…"

"I hate to say it, but how do we know she didn't?" Sam asked.

Dean tapped the journal in his hand, "By the time she was nine she was already doubting her sanity…but…" he held up his finger and cracked the book, "Listen to this… _"…I know I keep writing that everyone has these things… but I should make it a little more clear… it's really not everyone… I remember seeing someone once who didn't… she was surrounded by golden light… I guess the… meanies couldn't get through the light…anyway, I don't know if it's my fault or not, it probably is cause I kept bringing it up… before… but now mom has more of them…and they're getting big, and meaner and scarier… when she hits me they laugh and point and smile… and they make her hit me more and more… same with dad…I know it's not their fault… with these things eating off of them… but it still hurts…dad cracked my cheekbone last week and it still hurts. I gave mom and dad some comfort… They're really sorry after they hurt me, I told them it wasn't their fault and even gave them a little piece of me so they'd know I still love them and it seemed to make them feel better a little, and it even made the meanies go away for a little while… but they come back, they always come back… and they just laugh now… they see me and laugh, and point… I think they'll try to get one of them to kill me one day… maybe then everyone'll be happy…"_ he finished and looked at Sam who drew a shaky breath.

"Jeez man… how old…?" Sam asked.

"The ripe old age of nine…"

"Man…"

"Yeah…"

"But none of the co-workers mentioned anything about her being depressed or anything?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head, "Not even a whisper… they all said she was very even tempered, contemplative, usually weighed her words carefully…not a hint that she might be even a little off her nut…"

"That's weird…" Sam frowned.

Dean nodded.

"What do you think she meant about giving them a piece of herself?" he asked.

"I don't know but she's mentioned it a few times already… ahh a playground thing, one of her friends flipped off of the swing or something and broke her wrist…" he flipped back through the book and scanned some pages, "Yeah… saw a 'meanie' sucking up something behind her friend's tears… 'her pain?' question mark… '… so I gave her some of me to chase it away for a while…'" he said.

"Dean… we know there are other people out there with abilities… what if she was an empath?" Sam surmised.

The elder Winchester nodded with a cocked eyebrow, "It would make some sense… I mean… some of these thought processes in here… they may be documented with a nine year olds vocabulary but the concepts seem to be fairly… sophisticated…"

Sam looked from his brother to the computer screen, a curious look on his face as Dean continued to wax philosophic about the possibilities and probabilities of an actual empath as he understood the concept.

"…hey… what am I talking to a wall here?" he asked noting his brothers' furrowed and curious expression.

"Huh…whatever she was Dean… I'm not so sure it was an empath… I mean it might have been, but it was more…"

"Dude what're you talking about?" Dean asked pulling up a chair beside him so he too could look at the screen, when he realized what he was reading he cast a curious look at Sam, "She posted this?"

"Yeah… apparently she wasn't a subscriber to Demon Hunter's Quarterly…" Sam wisecracked, "… jeez Dean… she was just looking for people like her…"

--

tbc still slow…. I'm sorry… but please R&R thanks, sifi


	3. Chapter 3

Legacy – Chpt 3.  
by: sifi 

--

Dean frowned, meeting his little brothers' gaze with a fresher perspective, he had after all been reading what amounted to a woman's journals through her personal evolution, and there was one thing he understood with a profound depth that actually caused him pain, "…She was alone Sam… external job, social moments notwithstanding… she was really…"

"Yeah…" Sam nodded, understanding perfectly the muted desperation in the ads she'd placed. His greens met Dean's and he nodded. Yep, he understood too.

A few more clicks and he found himself logged into her e-mail accounts where there were several hundred responses in a total of five mail boxes.

"Holy crap…" Dean breathed shaking his head, "Glad I'm working on the journals…"

Sam shook his head and smiled opening the one that seemed to be her main mailbox, one in which there were only four e-mails.

"What the hell!" he sneered dragging the cursor to one in particular that caught his eye.

It was addressed to ABSeer, but the subject heading read: For Sam Winchester.

"What the hell?" Dean echoed and nudged Sam "Open it."

Walking around the odd feeling in his belly Sam double clicked on that particular letter and read its contents just a little faster than his older brother.

_Dear Sam…_

_I'm not really sure how to explain how and why I'm here. I'm writing it down because I tend to say things more…logically, more organized, when I've had time to think about it and write it out. I guess I was set on this path years ago – 26 years, actually, but it's only been within the last year/year and a half that my life has really become crazy. Lol. Well, I guess it's good I can laugh about it, at the moment.  
_

_So what happened 26 years ago? A fire. When I was six months old, the fire that started in my nursery killed my mother and father. To this day, I'm not sure how I ended up safely out of harms way. Some say a neighbor or even a vagrant must have gone into the house to save me. No one ever stepped forward, though, to claim the heroic deed. I used to think it was an angel. I'm not so sure anymore, but it doesn't really matter. I still believe that I'm alive for a reason, for such a time as this. I have to.  
_

_My parents were fairly well off. I was the sole heir. I was taken in by my aunt and uncle. They treated me as nothing less than one of their own. They were the only mom and dad I ever knew. They raised me Christian, so I grew up believing in angels and demons, but knowing of their existence and being confronted by one are two different things. But, that's jumping a little ahead of myself. Getting back to what I was saying, to say my life was anything but blessed, despite the tumultuous beginning, would be wrong or an understatement. I lived in peaceful, ignorant, naïve bliss for nearly 25 years.  
_

_A little over a year ago, that changed. Some changes happened quickly, others were slower, at first, subtle, but ultimately life altering. I began to experience strange things. I started to feel emotions that had nothing to do with my own circumstances. I was getting headaches in public. The more crowded a location, the quicker the onset and the more painful the headache became. I felt like I was on an emotional roller coaster, like a major case of pms, and I was losing control.  
Then, one night, November 2nd, I had a nightmare. I had what I called nightmares growing up as a child, but nothing, and I do mean nothing, compared to that night. What I saw was horrifying. There was a pretty young blonde pinned to, what I later realized was, the ceiling. But it was more than that. I was there. I was living it. I felt her blood drip on my head. I yelled, though in a voice not my own. Disbelief, pain, loss and, oddly (to me) guilt overwhelmed me; kept me pinned like her. And try as I might, I could not wake up. As if it couldn't get any worse, and yet somehow I knew it was coming, flames erupted from behind the girl. Jess. It felt like she was (not to sound…weird) the love of my life and, yet, I had no idea who she was and hoped she was nothing more than a dream. Then, I realized I was being dragged out of the inferno by a man. Finally, I was able to wake up, but the lingering emotions from the nightmare made it more real than anything I had ever experienced before. I was haunted by those images and emotions for days, maybe even weeks. That ended up being the first of many dreams, though, in some ways, still the most painful. Somehow, as time went on, I began to put some of the pieces of the puzzle together, that my life had suddenly become. I am an empath. I can feel the emotions of others, to varying degrees depending on the number of people I'm around, how strongly they feel emotion, their outlet for those emotions, and how strong my own defenses are on any given day. Heck, any given hour. I won't go into my own junk here, that's not why I'm writing this. I'm not looking for sympathy or pity. I'm just letting you know where I'm coming from. I accepted what was happening, and once I did that, I don't know, a few more things fell into place. It actually became easier to tell what I was feeling verses what I was getting from others. I had a few more really intensely real dreams. I knew they were related. I just wasn't sure how, yet. I did know that these nightmare snippets always involved two men. The man through whose eyes I saw things, as you may have guessed, was YOU, Sam; the other man, your constant companion… your brother Dean. The next event that threw me for a ringer was both disturbing and immensely joyful. I received another flash like dream or memory. A woman, Julie, was just accepting a marriage proposal. She had tears of joy streaming down her face. The moment passes. What made it disturbing was that it happened during the day. I'm just glad I wasn't driving. Like the nightmares, I saw the event; no, I was experiencing the event through Jules. Feeling as she felt, seeing, hearing, smelling, everything. I was temporarily blinded to my own reality. _

_These invasions into others lives became a regular occurrence, which, let me tell you, has made for some interesting looks and conversations on the part of those around me when it happens. The cast of characters for this bizarre soap opera has, or had, eight regulars. More than that, I came to realize that each of the people I was connected to had psychic abilities. Apparently, I'm an empath, but when something highly emotional happens to one of the other eight, I get a psychic…boost…and temporarily become a telepath. There is, as I mentioned Jules, or Julie, she's a telepath – a true telepath, unlike myself. Sometimes, I think she can sense me, but I'm not really sure. There… was… Max. He had telekinesis. Rosie is also telepath. I tell ya, there's nothing like the innocence and simplicity of a child. Franko, he can heal people. I worry about him. Carmen is a classic "psychic". She reads auras, energies, picks up on what's going on in people's lives. There's Andy, he has the power of mind control, he's a little scary and sometimes. So is Robert, sometimes he really doesn't seem quite like himself…he can alter another person's reality. And he's learning fast.  
_

_Then, of course, there's you, Sam, with visions of the future. Unlike any of the others, you show the potential to use more than one ability. You've had visions, done the classic-psychic-thing, and telekinesis. I don't know about you, but I still have so many questions.  
_

_It wasn't until Max that I realized we had more in common than having psychic abilities. Yeah, I was "there" for the Max event. I can only assume that I saw more than the usual brief flashes because you two were interacting with each other and emotions were high. I knew my birth parents died in a fire. I now know that yours and Max's mom also died. I can only say that I'm glad you're the stronger psychic. I don't even want to think about what would have happened if I was experiencing those events through Max. If you die in a dream, do you die in real life? Anyway…  
_

_Throughout the past year, I've been temporarily but frighteningly consumed by the lives of others. After Max… I started searching for the others. I wanted to confirm that we were all connected by… the demon.  
_

_I want to thank you, both, for Rosie, by the way. You saved her. I can't really explain it, but I know you saved her in more ways than we yet know. She is still… whole. I decided to approach you first. I figure, you deal with this sort of thing all the time. Plus, you're painfully aware of the demon. (I can't express to you enough how sorry I am about the loss of your father.) So…I'm pretty confident you won't think I'm insane. I'm not sure what I expect from our meeting, but I would like to offer you whatever I can, whatever you need, whatever you'll accept._

_By the way… My name is Kaitlyn… and if you haven't figured it out already… there's something big coming… maybe like a war… and I want to make sure I'm on the right side when the time comes… if you know any others like us… if you're interested in talking… you can copy down my e-mail address… I hope I hear from you and your brother, Sam… I really do._

_Kaitlyn_

"What the hell?" Dean asked, his expression just as befuddled as Sam's.

The youngest Winchester shook his head, completely dumbfounded, "Huh… y'got me…"

"What the hell is going on here Sammy?" Dean nearly demanded and again Sam shook his head.

"I really don't know… but I think we just went from the Twilight Zone to the Outer Limits…" Sam finally answered.

--

Two days later, with every available square inch of the impala's interior packed with Alexandra Bentley's book collection Dean pulled away from the curb in front of her apartment, his pocket lined with three hundred dollars he'd gotten for the whole of her media collection. Hocking her stuff had initially been a point of contention between the Winchester brothers, Sam thinking it was wrong to profit even further from the gift of the woman's life and Dean, after having read her set of journals all the way through felt frighteningly close to her, and knew she would have insisted that someone profit from some part of her life.

Finding himself strangely affected by Dean's apparent empathy toward the woman who'd ensured he would live a little longer, Sam relented, wondering at the many facets of his big brother that were still surprising him, and he wondered why he was surprised. He knew Dean felt things far more deeply than he'd ever let anyone know, hadn't the last few months alone proven that to him time and time again? And yet he still found himself surprised without understanding why.

"Knock it off Sam…" Dean muttered gently, just a little louder than the radio as his baby brother shook his head and protested faintly from beneath the veil of his dozing.

"Huh?" Sam asked waking back up and stretching his long lean form as much as possible in the greatly reduced space.

"You were mumbling man…" Dean said softly as the black and yellow ribbon spun out behind them in the waning light. Once more they were chasing the sun into the west but as always, it eluded them and soon night was pulling them into its breast, begging them to stop and rest.

They were only a few hours away from the roadhouse when Dean finally pulled into a tiny motel and got them a room before waking Sam.

Tomorrow they would fully immerse themselves into The Outer Limits, they'd unload the books into Ellen's basement, get Alex Bentley's laptop organized to their liking and wait for Sam's new playmate to show up. Dean wasn't wild about how quick Sam was to arrange a meeting with another one of the Demon's apparently 'chosen-children' but he did understand the need to make contact and feel out the territory. As much as he hated to admit it, Ellen had a point. The world was at war and folks like them were stuck right in the middle of it. And he had to admit,_ what better place to meet a potential Meg Masters than in a bar full of hunters? He felt his guts clench at the whisper of fear for his little brother. I'm going to have to tell him… dad you're gonna have to forgive me man, but this not knowing is going to kill Sam… it's going to hurt him and open him up in ways you don't understand…and it's sure as hell not doing me any good either… I'll hold off as long as I can but he needs to know dad…_ Dean thought as he slid between the sheets. _That encounter with Andy and Webber, it's not even the whole of it…he's scared of himself dad…and there's only so much I can protect him from… I can't protect him from himself…_ he felt himself shudder at the prospect of Sammy putting himself in jeopardy just because he didn't know the truth. It was going to be hard for him to hear and cope with, but knowledge is power, and if he had the whole story, Sam could cope, especially with Dean at his side. _I promised you Sammy… long as I'm around nothing bad's gonna happen to you… I mean it too little brother…we're all we have… trust me Sammy… I'll keep you safe…I hope…_ and finally his mind quietly slipped into restful darkness with one final thought, _I wish Laura was here…please be alive honey… please._

--

My part in the telling of this particular story is over… sifi.

for more please follow up with Body, Mind and Soul by Nvrmore, at the following link, (which won't allow itself to be saved as part of this document.).. into angst, supernatural, and psychopathy… hers is a twisted path to follow… just keep your eyes fixed on the light ahead… and thanks for joining us on this ride...

seek your path with the name user name: nvrmore on this site... since ... shocker that.. y'can't post a link, still... the way will be lit.

hope you enjoy this newest adventure as much as I have! Please be kind and R&R... Body Mind and Soul deserves it!

Thank You Nevermore... My favored fellow Poeian... :D

My friend.

Thanks.

sifi


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